


11:59 P.M.

by Morpheus626



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: An Anon request on Tumblr for B26: “It’s not morning yet.”
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge





	11:59 P.M.

To say it had been a rough night so far was an understatement. Their nightmares had kept them both up, and try as they might, any attempt to fall back asleep only led to more nightmares and night terrors. They’d even gone to bed early, at seven, in the hopes that the extra time spent relaxing in bed might help. 

“We gotta call in tomorrow,” Snafu sighed. “Shit. It probably is tomorrow already.” 

They’d set the alarm clock on its face, so they wouldn’t be preoccupied with checking the time while they tried to sleep. Eugene moved it back to standing, and sighed. “It’s not morning yet. Not technically.” 

“Technically?” 

“It’s 11:59,” Eugene replied. “So, technically, it won’t be morning for another minute.” 

The clock ticked to midnight, and Snafu whined. “What the fuck are we gonna do?” 

“We got time yet. Might still fall asleep,” Eugene soothed. 

“Oh really? You think you can sleep?” 

“Not really. Every time I close my eyes I keep seein’…” Eugene started, but stopped himself. Saying it aloud somehow made it worse, and he knew Snafu was seeing the same sort of things whenever he closed his eyes. The bodies, the blood, the bones, and the maggots. The sound of screams and shelling and bullets whizzing past them far too close for comfort, even when they were meant to be in something like relative safety. He could even smell it, the rot of the coconuts and the bodies, the oil from their weapons that got all over everything and could never be washed away, the smoke and powder. It made his head hurt, made him want to curl up and hide somewhere the memories of it couldn’t get to him. 

“We’re callin’ in. Tell ‘em we’re bleedin’ from the ass, nose, mouth, and eyes, I don’t care. Whatever we gotta say. Maybe it’ll be easier to sleep when it’s light out,” Snafu sighed, and pulled him close. 

“Think we can probably just say we aren’t feelin’ well. Don’t know that they’ll want that much detail,” Eugene said as he rested his head on Snafu’s chest. 

“Then you do the callin’ in, or that’s what I’m tellin’ ‘em,” Snafu whimpered. “I’m so damn tired. Why can’t I just sleep?” 

“I know,” Eugene murmured. He had the same question in his head. It was maddening how they could go a good few weeks doing well, sleeping through the night. Then one bad night would set one or both of them off of anything resembling a sleep schedule for weeks. 

He felt Snafu’s breathing slow after a bit, and held his breath that it would last. One of them, at least, should get a half hour, an hour of sleep if they could be so lucky. 

But the fearful whimpering started up, and before long he could hear the sobs and knew the tears were falling. With a gentle hand, he woke Snafu from the nightmare. 

“Sledgehammer?” Snafu’s eyes were wide staring at him but more like through him, tears streaming down his face. “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good. What happened?” Eugene moved up, adjusting so Snafu could rest against him instead. He was shivering, despite the summer heat. 

“You didn’t…” Snafu’s sobs were sharp. Eugene could only imagine how they hurt.

“Didn’t what?” 

“The password. I asked you for it, and you wouldn’t say it, and I kept askin’ and you wouldn’t say, and everyone else was tellin’ me shoot, shoot, you have to, if he ain’t givin’ the password then you have to, and I-” Snafu broke down with a gasp, curling away from him and in on himself, shaking like a leaf. 

He knew better than to talk right then. Touch was usually the remedy; gentle and slow, just enough to remind Snafu where he was. He’d work through it, and once he was back and aware he’d hold him close until the shaking subsided. 

“I didn’t have a choice, and then there you were in the mornin’,” Snafu continued, weeping hard enough that he sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Laid out by the foxhole, a bullet in your head, and I was the one who did it. And they wouldn’t let me cover you, or anyone take you to be buried, they wouldn’t…I just wanted to take you with me. I couldn’t leave you there.” 

He quickly but carefully carried Snafu from the bed when he started to retch, setting him down as gently as possible in front of the toilet in their bathroom, rubbing his back to calm him as the little dinner he’d eaten came back up. 

He let Snafu fall against him once he was through, rocking ever so slightly, humming something near a lullaby under his breath. 

When Snafu looked up at him, he could tell he was back. His eyes weren’t so wide, so glassy. He didn’t speak, just reached up to Eugene’s temple and touched it softly, feeling for a bullet wound that wasn’t there. 

“You didn’t hurt me. We’re okay,” Eugene whispered, and was surprised at how hoarse his voice sounded, how it shook as he leaned down to press a kiss to Snafu’s forehead. 

The tears rolled down Snafu’s face again as Eugene cleaned his mouth and carried him back to the bed. 

“I just wanna sleep,” Snafu sobbed, just loudly enough that Eugene could hear him, and his heart broke. He could count on one hand how many hours of sleep he’d had over the last day or so. He knew that desperation, was near it himself, but it hurt worse to see it in Snafu, especially knowing there wasn’t much he could do to help relieve it. 

“I know. We’re gonna get you to sleep. Both of us, we’re gonna sleep, somehow,” Eugene said, and pulled Snafu onto his lap, so his head lolled onto his shoulder, and he could feel Snafu’s tears wetting his skin. 

He let his own tears fall as the hours passed. Not just for the moment, for the lack of sleep, but for everything that the nightmares had brought forth. From the men, and not really men but boys, who he’d worked beside who would never come home but whose stories and unfulfilled dreams he’d carry the rest of his life, to the horrific sights that seemed etched on the inside of his eyelids, always destined to drench his vision in the memories of the blood and gore whether he slept or was awake. 

It hurt, to weep that hard, both of them shaking with the effort of it, fingernails leaving marks as they clung to each other like there was nothing and no one else material in the world. Like the sun would never rise again, and all that was left was the pain and the never-ending night with no sleep to come in as reprieve. 

When the sun did begin to filter in, it felt like a dream. Eugene gathered himself just enough to make the calls to their jobs, his voice shaking more than he wanted it to as he apologized for the early calls to his supervisor, and the lead mechanic that treated Snafu like the son he’d never had, apologized for both of them being sick. Neither of them questioned it, blessedly, only told them to feel better. 

He wished desperately that they could. That it would just be like a flu, a matter of a few days and nights of good rest and broth and no responsibilities, and the horror of it all would recede, rather than coming in and out like the tide. 

The light, at least, seemed to help. He opened the drapes of their bedroom windows, Snafu’s eyes on him as he moved about the room, a hand reaching out for him as he returned to the bed. 

Finally, as the sun filled the room, he was able to shut his eyes, and for once a rotting skull didn’t immediately flash in front of him. Snafu still snuggled close to him, but his breathing started to slow, and no pained whispers or fearful whimpers interrupted it. 

He’d had plans for the day. But not anymore. Today was for survival, for sleeping, for both of them to at least temporarily defeat the terrors that sometimes made it so damn hard just to keep on living. Another day, they could face it all closer, try to dissect it in an attempt to properly put it away, if that was even possible. 

But not this day.


End file.
